


A Thousand Years of Loving You

by Kuzuriolu



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anniversary, F/F, Fluff, Girls in Love, Halloween, Lesbian Vampires, Married Couple, Vampire Bites, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:28:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27305599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuzuriolu/pseuds/Kuzuriolu
Summary: On the 31st Day of the Wyvern Moon, Dorothea and Petra celebrate one thousand years of marriage.
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Petra Macneary
Comments: 5
Kudos: 26





	A Thousand Years of Loving You

**Author's Note:**

> I’m posting this from my phone since I’m at work, so I hope the formatting won’t be weird.
> 
> (Warning: There's some nsfw-ish implications but nothing explicit)

**The 31st day of the Wyvern Moon, Imperial Year 2188**

Dorothea Macneary was not an early riser by any means—especially not with her _condition_. She would usually not consider climbing out from underneath her crimson satin sheets until the moon had crested over the horizon, chasing anyway any signs of the sun and heralding the beginning of the eerie night. Yet, at exactly three in the afternoon, a loud buzz rumbled from the alarm clock upon her nightstand. Still in a dreary haze, Dorothea flung her arm from the warmth of her bed and lightly tapped the silence button with a single finger. She mumbled incoherently as her body rose and her blankets draped off of her like a cascade. Heavy curtains shielded her sensitive eyes from the harsh rays of the sun, though a peak of it yet still shone through onto the carpeted floor beneath. She blinked at the sight she only got to gaze upon just this one day of every year.

There was a light stir at her side. The figure of Petra Macneary emerged from her covers, her eyes half-lidded and hazy with the aftereffects of sleep. Her extraordinarily long burgundy hair was unkempt and frazzled in an out of character way that made Dorothea temporarily forget her disdain at the alarm clock for rousing her.

“Good morning, my heart,” Dorothea greeted her wife in the language of Brigaeli, her pronunciation nothing short of perfect.

“Good morning,” Petra returned, voice rife with exhaustion. It had not been six hours since the pair had last been awake, thus, she was rather disorientated. Her jaws stretched with a powerful yawn and her long, razor-sharp fangs glistened in the sliver of sunshine. “What time is it, my dearest?”

“Three at noon exactly,” Dorothea replied. This newfangled ‘alarm clock’ was certainly adept at its job, and Dorothea wished that such a thing had existed back when she had an actual schedule. Perhaps then she would not have been so late to early morning councils. She had purchased the device a few years back, but it rarely saw purpose other than to remind Dorothea exactly how late it was on the occasion she gave it a glance. Time was not exactly something that was important to a more than thousand year old vampire, after all.

Petra nodded in understanding. “Good, we still have time to prepare…” she muttered. 

“Yes, plenty,” giggled Dorothea, admiring how _adorable_ her darling wife looked while she was still drowsy. “Come now, let’s get our day started.”

She hopped out from her bed and made haste towards the window to shove the curtains as close together as possible to rid of that annoying glimmer of sun. She had yet to cast any enchantments upon herself to circumvent the nasty effects that the sun had upon her kind, for she had not the need until now to dwell outside during the day.

Petra followed shortly after her wife. When she stood, she stretched her arms out wide into the air as if greeting the sky. She rolled her neck upon her shoulders and sighed with satisfaction.

Dorothea turned away from the window to look at her wife once more and smiled brilliantly. She strode across the room and gallantly swept her up in her arms with ease, as she had done a million times before. They pressed their lips together in a languid kiss and held each other close, simply basking in their shared warmth.

When they pulled away, Dorothea looked down upon Petra with a grin.

“Happy thousand year anniversary, my love,” she breathed out.

Petra returned her smile with full fervor. “Yes, happy anniversary, my heart.”

* * *

The 31st day of the Wyvern Moon, Imperial Year 1188. That was the day the queen of Brigid, Petra Macneary, wed her beloved Dorothea Arnault. Celebration for the two was far and wide throughout every island of the archipelago as they welcomed the new couple to a life of prosperity after a half a decade of war and many more of imprisonment. For too long had Brigid been at the mercy of the Empire, but with the inauguration and wedding of queen Petra, their binds had finally been severed. Petra and her darling Dorothea were beloved by all the people of Brigid for their accomplishments, and reigned for nearly sixty years upon the throne. 

Then, suddenly, they vanished, leaving the crown upon the head of their eldest daughter. The archipelago was abuzz with rumor and worry about what had happened to the queens, who had always been so very healthy and youthful despite their old age, but there was never an answer, not from the new queen nor her four siblings. After forty years of a thriving rule at the hands of Queen Eithne Macneary, she passed the throne to her sister, Caoimhe Macneary, and promptly vanished as well. Not ten years later, Queen Caoimhe similarly disappeared, leaving Eithne’s eldest son to reign, for she had no children of her own. The mystery deepened only further when no one could locate the whereabouts of the former queens’ siblings, almost as if they had dissipated into thin air overnight.

The unresolved mystery was a famous tale of Brigid, even a thousand years later. Petra and Dorothea had become renowned even amongst the many kings and queens of Brigid for not only their accomplishments, but their undeniable and utterly devoted love to one another. Artistic depictions of the two queens and their children lined every museum in Brigid, and tales about their antics were sold far and wide. A historian had even managed to unearth their diaries and countless letters to one another and published it for all to see, so that everyone for centuries to come would know about how deep the love between Queen Petra Macneary and Queen Dorothea Macneary ran.

The truth, of course, was far more strange than anyone could imagine.

As Dorothea and Petra lounged lazily upon one of their many couches, Dorothea let out a sudden sigh as she spotted a smudge of mud upon the living room carpet, no doubt tracked in by one of their children after a hunt. Petra was always far more cautious than to leave a mess behind, for she too liked keeping their vast abode as spotless as could be. She would have to do a thorough clean later, but not when it was such a special day. It was difficult to leave the wilderness out, especially when they lived so deep within the jungle. It was required for them to live in such a remote location in order to retain secrecy. Back when they had constructed the mansion when it first became necessary to vanish due to their ever-youthful appearances, the two of them had to seclude themselves within for over a century, until history had forgotten the precise details of their appearances. Thus, Petra had chosen a spot untouched by humans upon a smaller island within the archipelago, surrounded by heavy trees and guarded by predators only the keenest of hunters would dare try their hand at. Thankfully, it was no danger for Dorothea, Petra, and their children, for they, of course, were vampires—and so was every single Macneary who followed. 

The curse had once been solely Dorothea’s to bear, when she was bitten one fateful night by an overly amorous fan of hers at age eighteen. For the next few years, she hid her curse carefully, fearful of what those around her would think if they knew she was not the beauty she appeared to be, but a bloodsucking monster. She was near masterful at hiding it, feigning smiles in the dining hall as she chewed food she could no longer taste. But then came Petra, oh, gorgeous, _brilliant_ Petra. Through the terrors of war, they fell for each other, and it did not take long for Petra to discover that there was something different about her Dorothea. Yet, when she first laid eyes upon Dorothea’s blood-soaked fangs, she did not run in fear. Instead, she had embraced her, accepted her for all she was. Their relationship did not falter in the slightest, and in fact, grew ever stronger. Once the war was said and done and Fódlan had been reclaimed by Edelgard, Petra had taken Dorothea back with her to Brigid, and declared her intentions to marry her. 

Petra leaned into her lover’s side, eyes fighting not to droop. As Dorothea’s vision trailed over her beloved’s form, her eyes fell to the scar upon the crook of Petra’s neck, perfectly in the shape of Dorothea’s fangs. A finger lazily traced the outline, causing Petra to shudder slightly. Gently, Dorothea leaned in and pressed a tender kiss upon the mark, which was enough to make Petra’s eyes shoot wide open. 

“Come now, my love, we’ve only got an hour or so left before it’s time,” she muttered into her skin, “no dozing off on me now, alright?”

“Yes, but I must say… I am regretting that we had a wedding so very early,” laughed Petra, eyes sparkling as she reminisced, “I did not think it would be so difficult to be awake for the anniversary every year.”

“Oh, but you wanted a wedding at sunset, remember? It was really beautiful, all the colors upon the waves like that,” hummed Dorothea. It may have been a millennium ago, but never would she forget all the pinks and oranges dancing upon the ocean’s surface as she looked out upon it, hand in hand with her new wife as the breeze swept up their neatly-combed hair and nearly unwound the braids that had taken them oh so long to perfect. Sure, the sunlight had blemished her sensitive vampiric skin, but Dorothea would not have traded that memory for the world. 

“Ah, yes, and it has been so long since… Even with the enchantments, the sun always feels a bit strange on my skin...” Petra commented.

One thousand years ago, not only had Petra wed Dorothea, but she had declared her intentions to make their love eternal. Though Dorothea had been cursed with immortality, Petra had still been mortal. Throughout their courtship, Dorothea had come to the conclusion that her precious Petra was her _everything_ , and that she could not possibly live without her. She had always fretted the day that Petra would wither and die, but she had never expected Petra to boldly declare that she, too, wished to share her curse. That night, Petra had pulled down her necklaces and allowed Dorothea’s fangs to caress the delicate flesh that lay there, and as they buried themselves within, she whispered her wedding vows once more.

Since then, they had kept within the veils of the night. It had been so, so very long since they had last watched the sunset, and on the thousandth anniversary of their eternal vows, there was no better time to see it once more.

“Mm, let’s hope the enchantment I used this time works better than the last,” mused Dorothea. 

“Yes, indeed.”

The old-fashioned clock on the opposite side of the room ticked down the minutes until the setting sun. When it struck five o’clock and it rang out for the entire house to hear, both women promptly stood.

“Alright, let’s go,” Dorothea spoke. “I’ll go and get the wine, you get a towel, alright? Then we meet back here in five minutes?”

Petra nodded enthusiastically. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

* * *

As the sun began to descend from the sky in a radiant glow of oranges and pinks, Dorothea and Petra arrived upon the secluded shore. The perilous trek to the beach ensured that little to no one would dare even venture to such a location, and even if an onlooker's prying eyes were to catch a glimpse at the two former queens of Brigid, a mere flick from either of their wrists would wipe their memory of the encounter permanently. 

The two wives sat side by side upon the beach, just far enough so that the calm waves rolling in would not even tickle their feet. A towel beneath kept their archaic attire free of the clingy sand, and between them sat a wide metallic bowl containing a bottle of perfectly-aged, expensive blood wine, and two wine glasses. It was a collective gift from their children to celebrate the special occasion. However, the bottle went neglected for just a moment, for both women were entranced by the sight of the setting sun.

Dorothea could feel her skin tickle, like little embers were dancing across the surface of her body. It hurt a bit, but not enough to deter her from the lovely date she had planned for the longest time with her sweetheart. Likewise, Petra seemed to be feeling the effects of the sun, for she would occasionally rub her exposed arms as if trying to brush away flames. 

“Everything alright, my dearest?” Dorothea asked her.

“Yes, I am fine,” confirmed Petra, offering her a smile to assure her. “It has simply been a long time since I have seen the sun so close… It is like… I had forgotten how beautiful it was.”

Such was one of the disadvantages of vampirism, but Petra had fully realized what they were when she had invited Dorothea to sink her teeth into her neck. Dorothea had made sure of that, and when Petra did not change her mind in spite of that, Dorothea had been utterly thrilled. Saying farewell to the sun and embracing the moon was a challenge Dorothea had never expected Petra to wish to take on, but she had proven to be an extraordinary woman in more ways than one.

“It’s nice to come out here every once in a while, even if it _does_ hurt my skin…” agreed Dorothea with a stretch. “Now then, dear, how about we try some of that wine our children so graciously gifted us?”

“I am up for it, yes!”

“Alright, if I may take the honors, then…” Dorothea reached for the bottle and utilized her vampiric strength to effortlessly rip the cork from the neck of the bottle using her long, sharpened canines in a matter of seconds. She discarded the cork into the bin and retrieved both glasses. Steadily, she poured the deep red nectar into each glass, and felt her throat constrict and grow dry at the tantalizing scent of blood. She pulled her bottom lip into her mouth and bit down upon it with her fangs, taking a deep breath in through her nose. She offered the first glass to her wife, who gladly took it with a grin. When they both had their beverages in hand, they leaned forward and tapped their wine glasses together, creating a light ringing noise.

“To one thousand years!” Dorothea cheered.

“To one thousand years!” Petra repeated with just as much enthusiasm.

Dorothea brought the rim of her glass to her lips and took a sip, allowing the rich flavor of blood combined with alcohol to flood her senses. A pleasant sigh left her lips as she swallowed her first sip, feeling the liquor drip down the back of her throat and soothe some of the ache that had bothered her so. She leaned against her beloved’s body as she took her second sip, watching as the sun slowly sunk beneath the ocean’s horizon. As the sky darkened, she could feel the uncomfortable burning sensation upon her bare skin slowly fade into nothingness. Night was beginning to fall, and with it, her body flourished. She was, after all, a creature of the shadows.

After the sixth or so sip of blood wine, her expression contorted into that of a frown. It was not as though the beverage was not appetizing. It was made over hundreds of years, with only the finest blood drawn from carefully bred cattle. It was simply that the mixture was failing to do much more than sate the initial ache. Her throat was still burning, still dry, and her thirst was only escalating. She shifted uncomfortably against her Petra and listened to the rather distracting noise of her blood rushing through her neck, amplified by her vampiric senses. Suddenly, the wine was no longer appetizing to her. There was only one thing that could possibly appease her.

“Petra, I,” she stammered out, unable to draw her eyes away from her wife’s neck. Her tongue darted outward to lick her lips. “...This wine is nice and all, and it was kind of our children to give it to us, but—…”

“I understand,” Petra answered immediately. She too discarded her glass at her side and shifted forwards, cupping her beloved’s cheek in one hand and holding her chin up in the other. Dusty pink eyes changed into a glowing red, evidence that she too was not satisfied with the beverage. Her mouth opened just wide enough to reveal her shimmering fangs, indicating that she shared Dorothea’s desire. “It tastes delicious, however… there is only one thing that can satisfy me…” Her hand slipped off of Dorothea’s cheek to trail down the crook of her neck teasingly, earning a shudder.

“Yes,” breathed Dorothea, “me too. You… you can have me first.”

That was all the permission Petra needed. She leapt for Dorothea and pinned her down on the towel beneath, caring little as the glass of wine tipped over and spilt everywhere. She placed sweet little kisses upon the crook of Dorothea’s neck that made her gasp and shiver. Dorothea gripped the back of Petra’s top in anticipation, feeling her heart race when Petra’s fangs tickled her.

“My beloved, all I ever desire is you,” whispered Petra, and then, she bit down upon her lover.

It always stung, just a bit, but Dorothea had a thousand years to get used to the feeling of her wife drinking from her. She could feel little sparks throughout her entire body, making it tingle as she let out a light moan. This erotic sensation was one they shared only between each other, for neither craved the blood of anyone else. From the moment they had shared their vows, Dorothea had realized that the only one for her was Petra, and likewise, Petra knew the only one for her was Dorothea.

“Mmm, Petra,” she gasped, “my Petra... “

After minutes of indulgence, Petra had her fill. She pulled back so that she could look her soulmate in the eyes, and Dorothea watched as the glowing red faded back to the familiar pink she had fallen in love with. Droplets of blood yet still fell from her chin, and Dorothea gladly wiped them away.

“How was it?” asked Dorothea half-jokingly, for she already knew the answer.

“Delicious,” replied Petra, as Dorothea knew she would. “You taste like the sweetest nectar in all the world… I can never have enough.”

Dorothea grinned. “Good, because I can never have enough of you either, my darling.”

“Then have me now, my beloved.”

The tables were then turned. With a surge of strength, Dorothea flipped her and Petra’s positions, pinning her wife underneath her by the wrists. Hungrily, she descended upon her neck, feeling her throat burn with the desire to taste her beloved. A pair of sharp fangs lovingly nipped at the nape of her neck to prepare her, and Petra whimpered. Finally, Dorothea sunk her teeth into Petra’s soft neck, and was instantly greeted by the sensation of warm, delicious blood flooding her mouth. To Dorothea, Petra tasted like all things wonderful: like a luscious bar of chocolate, like a juicy piece of fruit, like a delectable serving of saghert and cream. She tasted like pure love, and it was nothing short of addicting. Over one thousand years of devoted love, of drinking from each other, and she had never once tired of Petra.

Not wishing to harm her sweetheart, she stopped drinking once the discomfort in her throat had subsided and she had been fully satisfied. She gazed lovingly at the mark left behind on Petra’s neck, in the very same spot she had first bitten her on the night of their wedding. By now, the sun had faded away, and the sky had begun to light itself with glittering stars. The twinkles of light reflected in Petra’s eyes, making her look simply divine, still as gorgeous as she was a millennium ago. 

“I love you, my Petra,” Dorothea whispered as she pressed their foreheads together, drowning out all but the feeling of her beloved upon her. “Thank you for a thousand years.”

Petra’s hands reached for Dorothea’s and twined their fingers together, feeling their shared warmth. She giggled, and pecked her beloved on the lips. “And here is to one thousand more.”

**Author's Note:**

> Been a while since I’ve written something, but I at least wanted to get something out for Halloween. Hopefully this means I’ll get back to my other fanfictions soon. I’ve been incredibly busy with work since I’ve ended up taking on a lot of extra hours, and there’s a lot of stress. But hey! Gay vampire content. 
> 
> Just a reminder to leave a comment or a kudo if you liked my writing, it goes a kinda way. And hey, you can even leave both!


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